


Forget and Smile

by thehistoryofeverything



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Canonical Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Sad Ending, i would add more but ive been up since 5 in the morning and havent slept since im dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehistoryofeverything/pseuds/thehistoryofeverything
Summary: Ouma was a lot of things to people so he could be remembered, this could be the one time he wants people to forget about him however...





	Forget and Smile

**Author's Note:**

> :)
> 
> any questions can be asked here or at my tumblr: 20crowsinahoodie

        Ouma Kokichi, well known liar and generally considered an annoyance by most. A lot of his classmates had reasons to hate him, considering all his pranks and, according to Kiibo, robophobia. One person in particular didn’t dislike him as much as the others however. He had even considered him to be trustworthy. The person in question was none other than Shuichi Saihara. 

 

        Shuichi had many reasons to avoid talking to him and hating him as much as the others did but he chose to talk to Ouma casually. Well, semi-casually, he had as much distrust of him as the others did due to his constant lies. Ouma didn’t mind that though, he enjoyed Saihara’s casual personality as a contrast to his unpredictable one. He always enjoyed his company due to it and also due to his small crush on him. Although he would never admit the latter out loud. 

 

        Ouma wanted Saihara’s attention. He craved it, so he took in ways like having him join in on pranks but making sure he wasn’t hurt in the slightest way. He would even risk dying just to keep him safe. Ouma, in a hidden but obvious way, was self destructive. Often belittling himself and commenting on how people would celebrate his death. 

 

        “Hey Saihara-Chan, how would you react to my dead body being discovered?” Ouma asked. 

 

        “I--What?! Ouma, even for you, that’s a little concerning,” Saihara had replied with, hints of concern wrapped around his words.

 

        “I’m just saying, there’s no reason why anyone here hasn’t killed me yet, so I’ll repeat my question: How would you react to my body discovery?” Ouma had asked again, this time a bit more persistent. 

 

        Saihara gave him a worried look. He didn’t want to think about anyone else dying in this messed up game for their lives. It was never something he should have even thought about. He wanted to tell Ouma to change the subject but could tell that it was going to be something that he would bring up no matter what. He looked away for some time, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He felt uneasy on how Ouma would react to what he had to say.

        “Well… I don’t know much about you due to your lies. But what little I can get out of you makes me believe that I would be slightly shocked about your death. You make comments about people hating you so much that should you ever disappear for any reason, no one would even realize your disappearance even after you are well long gone,” Saihara had stated calmly.  

 

        Ouma hadn’t said anything while Saihara went through his small speech. His eyes once lit up with curiosity now dulled with depression. An excited and smiling face now downcast with a frown spreading across. He knew he hated liars and people who claim to never lie but hearing what his dear Saihara-Chan said. He wishes that a lie would’ve been told in that moment. 

 

        “Oh, Just kidding, nishishishi,” exclaimed Ouma.

 

        “Did you seriously think that I would actually disappear like that? I mean, who would take care of my organization of ten thousand people, you?”

 

         He didn’t even notice he pulled away from Saihara. All he knew in that moment was that he needed an escape of sorts. He felt like something was tearing away at him, he could hide his shaking decently, almost always blaming it on hunger or lack of sleep. The panic was rising, he felt underwater, all his thoughts were on running, finding ways to hide, getting away from everyone. He couldn’t even feel himself getting up and running as fast as he could. 

 

         He didn’t hear Saihara shouting after him. He couldn’t see anything beside what was in front of him. His chest felt like it was tightening on itself. He didn’t stop running, unaware of anyone calling his name and any objects he had ran into, until he reached his room. The door yanked open and slammed shut in a matter of seconds.

 

         Saihara hadn’t tried to get up after Ouma had ran away. He wanted to but he couldn’t get his body to respond. He felt stupid and ashamed of himself. He knew something was wrong with Ouma the minute he opened his mouth. He felt the space around him crashing down.

 

         He never looked up after he ran off. He stared down at his feet, letting what he just said process and the guilt going through him. Everything felt like it disappeared around him. He started shaking. His breathing getting faster and more uneven as it felt more painful to take a breathe. 

 

         “Oh no. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no,no, no,” he gasped out in between what little breathes he could take. The shaking had gotten worse, the circulation in his arms slowly being cut off by his iron-like grip on his arms. His whole body had started feeling numb, his head spinning and his eyes wet and red from the crying that he barely felt. He slid off the bench and onto the ground, his face buried in his hands as he tried everything to calm himself down. 

 

          A sinking feeling comes around him. His breathing still shaking as he tries to calm himself down still. Eyes red from how hard he was crying, his whole body feeling numb when he was able to stand up. Shaking was all he felt, his head filled with too many thoughts, more than what he usually had. He knew Ouma would try to avoid him, he’s noticeable enough to get everyone’s attention but also small enough to hide from anyone he doesn’t want to “deal with” as he put it. He took small steps until he felt like he would be able to walk without problem, avoiding anyone he would see so he wouldn’t have to explain his red eyes and overall demeanor. 

* * *

         Anger was all he felt. He knew the way he asked his question he would get an answer like that, or similar. He thought he would give an answer completely different than that though. Not… not something that he already knew. He felt his hands tighten into fists again, a new emotion stirring this time however. Distress was a familiar feeling to him, he didn’t want to deal with it or even  _ think _ about dealing with it.

 

         He laid back on his bed, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could feel himself getting ready to cry again, not just put on alligator tears to make others feel awkward or uncomfortable.  _ Deep breaths Kokichi, deep breaths, don’t cry, don’t cry. _ All his thoughts saying that one sentence and one sentence only. His head spinning from the weird breath he was doing and the lack of energy he had. 

 

         Some sleep was desperately needed to keep him from blacking out but he pushed forward anyway. A bottle of grape panta, graciously given by Monokuma, sitting on the small cabinet by his bed, still ¾ full. He didn’t want to sleep and deal with his nightmares, not for this day at least. Grabbing the bottle he unscrewed the cap, enjoying the little ‘ _ pfsst _ ’ that came. He held the bottle up as if he was doing a toast. 

 

         “Cheers to all you dead kids, at least you’re not dealing with this bullshit anymore,” he said before taking a swig as if it was a beer and he was at a high school party drunk off his ass. He wiped his mouth, empty headed from all the sugar and everything he had been dealing with up to that point. He wasn’t sure if he could feel anything anymore, after Kaito had punched him and the execution of Gonta, he wasn’t sure of anything the survivors so far were trying to accomplish. He wanted to escape when the whole game started but now he wanted nothing more than to die. He slide himself out of his bed. 

 

          He pushed boxes out of his way to reach a barely used desk, papers scattered all over it and small notebooks overstuffed with more papers and notes on them. He pushed some of the papers off and looked for a notebook that didn’t look ready to break if he even thought about touching it, finally finding one that looked barely used. He needed to write this down before he went through with his idea. Just as one last hurrah if Saihara decided to look around his room while he was out or for other reasons. Or, no when, he went through with what he was going to do. 

 

          He knew everyone wanted to find out the mastermind, so why not play the part? He knew exactly how to act and enough to mess with the machines built around the school. He had his entire plan set up, now he had to go through with it. Slightly shaking from all he had written and thought up, he took a deep breath. Doing this was a good thing, he was tired of watching good people, well, except Korekiyo, die for someone’s sick amusement. 

 

_         “Too early to try to act on it now,” _ he thought, the time on the clock showing 2:23 A.M. He looked at his door for what he felt like the ten billionth time. A slight bit of hope in him gave him the thought that Saihara was going to knock on his door at any moment, and ask if Ouma would forgive him for what he said. He would’ve said “no” at first, joking that a person who says that to the supreme leader of D.I.C.E. would be killed by his loyal members for saying such a bad thing about their beloved leader. Then he would laugh and say that he was lying like he always did. But no knock ever came. 

 

        “Guess he wants to give me space after what happened,” he muttered to himself. Disappointment, another feeling he’s used to having. He was too prideful to find Saihara and too embarrassed to apologize for his question and how he acted. Part of him wanted to cry again but he was sure he didn’t have any tears left, not even for his fake crying. A deep yawn escaped him as he walked back to his bed, making sure to not trip on papers or run into boxes. 

 

        He slipped back into his bed, knowing about what he needs to do for his plan and for everyone else. He pushed his head against the pillow, it felt much softer than what he usually felt, but he brushed it off as his lack of sleep making the bed feel more like a cloud than a brick. The idea keeping him awake for a few minutes more than what he wanted. The sugar from the panta still coursing through his body before finally letting him get a chance for sleep. 

 

          No one wants to believe that Ouma is actually the mastermind, no scratch that,  _ most _ everyone believed that he was the mastermind. He filled the lie out perfectly and carefully. He knew Saihara wouldn’t be able to see past it. He didn’t want him to see past it. He would rather die than see everyone around him die. What a cruel and foul word, die. 

 

          That word used to never scare him but after this Hell simulator, it’s one of the few things that cause genuine fear in him now. The word was no longer a word to him, to any of them really. It felt like a huge slap in their faces after the death of Amami and the execution of Kaede, the word ‘die’ no longer being a normal word. It held more meaning than before, when they all used to make jokes about death and wanting to die because “hey, it’s relatable and we all have issues.” It was something that was rarely brought up. 

 

        He managed to get Kaito trapped away from the others. He wouldn’t dare make Saihara do it. Himiko would be too lazy to do any part of it. Kiibo would try to talk him out of it and Maki would kill him herself and, most likely, find a way to get away with it. It was going according to everything he had thought up the night before, until Maki decided to intervene.

 

        She had enough of Ouma and the world would be thanking her if she got rid of him. He had forgotten to factor Maki’s assassination skills. He didn’t want his plan to go to waste, all that time and energy put into it just for nothing. He saw that she accidently hit Kaito, he knew she would want him to stay alive and saw her throw the bottle of serum. He grabbed it first, pretending to drink it to keep with his plan. 

 

        She grew angrier, running off to try to grab more serum from her lab. His thoughts going back to Kaito and his plan. Taking the bottle of serum and giving it to him was his first priority, he couldn’t have him dying on him. He knew he was dying from the poison arrows, his spoken words becoming more slurred and his body swaying more. Kaito, albeit reluctantly, agreed to his plan. He gave his outer jacket over to Ouma, still cautious over the whole thing, even if he phrased it like everyone would get out alive and the real mastermind would reveal themselves.

 

         Ouma had already laid down on the press, leaving a sleeve out to make people think it was Kaito. His thoughts all said one word, “die,” fear twisting his stomach. He couldn’t back out by that point, he was already dying anyway, why prolong it? He took one last breath before seeing Kaito press the button. It was quick, he didn’t get a chance to register the pain, he was already nothing but mushy blood at that point. 

 

         Distress, depression, and a mix of ten other emotions Saihara couldn’t describe in words. 

 

         “Why?”

 

         That was the only thought he had after the trial and death of both his best friend and his love. His head hurting from him gritting his teeth, his eyes hurting from how much he had cried that day. He wanted to block out everything, but his mind wouldn’t let him. He wanted to work harder to find the mastermind now, determined to put an end to the useless deaths of all his classmates. Determined to find out why Ouma did what he did.

 

         He felt tears again. Even thinking about Ouma made him cry. He hated it, hated what he said before to Ouma, hated how he didn’t apologize to him sooner. He regretted so much after their deaths, he wished he could turn back time and redo all the mistakes he made before, find out all the missing clues. But there wasn’t a point to it. 

 

        He passed by Ouma’s room, his heart aching when he realized it. He stepped backwards to face the door, palm flat on it as he remembered that day. His anxiety making him walk away before trying to knock on the door and apologize to him. He opened the door, wanting to find something to remember his lover by. He wanted to remember what he smelt like, his personality, and the way he acted if he ever lost his memories. 

 

        Everything looked in place at first, the statue of Amami hanging upside down, the horse mask on his pillow, but then he noticed the boxes. They were out of place, moved to make a small path to a desk he didn’t know was there. Curious, he walked over to it. He saw papers with unreadable scribbles all over it, weird drawings that he knew only Ouma would make, and bursting notebooks. But in the middle sat a notebook that looked barely used. He picked it up, thinking it was just another prank of Ouma’s and it actually was filled with a bright ink that would explode on him.

 

         The first page just said “FOR MY BELOVED SAIHARA-CHAN’S EYES ONLY” all in large handwriting. The second page only had “SERIOUSLY IF YOU’RE NOT MY BELOVED SAIHARA-CHAN STAY AWAY” written, a chuckle escaping his lips.

 

         “Typical Ouma fashion,” he muttered to himself. 

 

          He moved onto the third page of the notebook, noticing that the large handwriting was gone. The handwriting had gotten smaller, making room for a letter. He felt his heart twist and his stomach churn. He didn’t want to read what was written down but forced himself to anyway. He didn’t want to see what Ouma had written about him, especially since the letter was dated the day of the incident. 

* * *

_ Ah my dear Saihara-chan, I know what I asked was bound to get me that sort of answer. But yet, I still asked it and thought that you would give me something like “oh why do you ask that? We’re going to get out of here alive,” and all that  other hopeful stuff. I wanted to apologize to you after that, but you know me, I’m too prideful for that. I couldn’t just apologize to you without some sort of big scene happening and, yes, even I, the great supreme leader of an organization with 10,000 members couldn’t bear to do that. So I just hid away, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to face me either. God, what a pair of cowards we are. So, I hope you actually look into my room and find this notebook with this letter to you in it. I’m sorry Saihara, I didn’t want this to happen but it did but I know you’re gonna find the way out of this horrible game. I wish I would’ve been around to see it. But I knew it wouldn’t out that way anyway, I would’ve found a way for me to die anyway, just for you to stay alive. If you want to remember then go ahead. Please don’t grieve too much, I made myself a bad person on purpose to make my death easy for everyone. I know to help with the stress and trauma from this you made up future scenarios of us and the life we would live out. God, who knows how much of that went to the trash because you thought it wouldn’t be good enough. Everything had to be right and perfect down to the smallest detail you could think of. I’ll miss that… I’ll miss a lot of things when I’m dead, you the most. But if you wanna forget me? Go ahead, even in death, it’s understandable why you wouldn’t wanna remember someone you loved dying in such a gross way. Just forget and smile. _

_ Live on without me, find the mastermind, find a way out of here, and find a way to live without me. _

 

_ Love, your favorite person in this whole thing, Ouma _

* * *

        Some of the handwriting had gotten smudged. The paper was shaking and the areas where he was holding it had creased. Saihara had another breakdown, not being able to hold back any of the emotions he had felt. He had fallen on the ground by that point, still shaking and sobbing. He didn’t want to forget about Ouma or anything about him.

 

        He didn’t leave his room that night, looking around at all the items Ouma had around his room and the way he had everything set up. He wanted to remember all the little details over Ouma and his mannerisms. He wanted to make sure he could never forget about him. He took the checkered scarf he never saw him without, laying on his bed as he found ways to calm himself down. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of it as he slowly went to sleep.

 

        Even after the end of the game, he kept the scarf, the scent of Ouma long gone. He found out who the mastermind was. They were able to escape and go back to a normalish life, never fully getting rid of any new triggers or traumas they witnessed. They had night terrors because of the game. Calls and texts throughout the night were common as they looked for ways to help the person in need.

 

        He slowly forgot about some of the terrors. The people who died and the people who killed them were a few of them. But, with those being forgotten or blocked to prevent a meltdown from happening, he had forgotten about Ouma. The checkered scarf now hidden away in the farthest corner of a closet, hidden deeply in a box. “It was for his own good,” they all said.

 

        The days where remembered the nice things about the game were a bliss for him. He could never forget Kaito’s nightly workouts with Maki. How Kiibo tried so hard to be like a human. He would get phantom pains every time he remembered Tenko, being thrown around by her was something else. Maki and Himiko would try to remember the good as well, it was the best effort they did for the moment to cope.

 

        “Nhey, remember that one time Ouma tried to make up believe he was dead.” Himiko said.

 

         Maki had rolled her eyes, a slight sneer pulling on her face. He had looked confused. He tried to put the pieces together before giving out an awkward laugh and smile. 

 

         “Who’s Ouma?”

**Author's Note:**

> this was based on a song i sang my senior year in choir, the video was never released but i nearly cried while singing it


End file.
